Whisper me words of comfort and care
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: Post series fluff. Emma's sick. Machias helps. Celine is Celine.


**Whisper me words of comfort and care**

Bookworm fluff. Y'all know the drill by this point!

* * *

She was reasonably sure that waking up from a good night's sleep meant that you weren't supposed to be more tired than before your slumber.

That should have been the first clue.

While she immediately registered pain, it wasn't the tolerable strain of physical exertion, nor the sharp agony of severe injury; instead, the witch could feel a dull ache radiating throughout the entirety of her body, her limbs heavy and uncoordinated as she gingerly attempted to move, to get out of bed, to do _something –_

"Nope. Not gonna happen, Emma."

One sapphire eye blearily cracked open to reveal Celine staring back at her, the mild amusement on the surface failing to cloak the familiar's underlying concern.

"Celine…?" she murmured, not liking how weak her voice sounded at all, and judging from the narrowing of the feline's eyes, neither did she.

"Normally I'd say rise and shine – or something to that effect, anyway – but doesn't look like that fits today, does it?"

"I'm – " Emma began uncertainly before she swallowed her words (and discovered much to her chagrin that swallowing really, _really_ hurt).

"Sick," Celine finished curtly, not bothering to mince words, tail swishing the entire time.

Emma frowned at that, a protest bubbling to the surface in spite of the overwhelming evidence. "But I never – "

"Looks from here like you do, and before I even saw you this morning I felt you burning up from the other side of the room." She paused, taking in her appearance again, and the brunette had a sinking feeling that she had failed whatever test Celine was putting her through. "You should probably stay in today."

She immediately wanted to refuse, to say that even if she was a touch under the weather it was no excuse to waste the day, but the decision was taken out of her hands when she tried sitting up and was hit with a wave of dizziness that mercilessly brought her back down with a weak groan, and when was the last time she had been this exhausted?

"Scratch that. You're definitely staying in today," Celine declared, the steel in her voice leaving no room for argument. "Get some more rest. I'll be back in a few minutes, all right?"

 _"Where are you going?"_ she thought, suddenly not wanting to be alone as the cat bounded out of the room, but it was difficult to do more than that when it took most of her energy just to lift her head, and it was so hard to keep her eyes open so maybe she'd be better off if she shut them for a little while –

* * *

A familiar, cool touch resting against her forehead awakened her from her fitful nap.

"… She's very warm."

"You don't say. Figure that one out by yourself, did you?"

He muttered something that Emma couldn't quite catch, and when his fingertips left the flushed skin she couldn't stop her features from scrunching into a frown.

"That felt nice, you know."

Seeing him jump a little when her eyes opened was worth the effort, she decided, a small smile working its way across her face in spite of how awful she felt at the moment.

"U-Uh… hello," Machias stammered, sounding guilty. "You looked fast asleep, so I didn't think you'd wake up. Sorry."

"Hi," she murmured back with no small amount of affection, head sliding against the pillow as she took in messy green hair and handsome, sharp features made sharper by his obvious concern. "That's all right. If it's any consolation, I think that I probably would have woken up anyway.

He frowned. "Probability isn't certainty."

"True, I suppose," she conceded, studying him carefully and feeling a pang at the sight of his brow creasing even further. "I haven't seen you frown like that in quite a while. Aren't you afraid it might stay that way?" Emma teased.

He gave a non-committal shrug in response, her attempt at humor falling flat, and any further tries were stopped in their tracks when her tired gaze caught the clock on the wall and made her gasp in surprise.

"It's that late already?!" Emma exclaimed, sitting up with a jolt, and the sudden, brutal pounding in her temples was proof enough that had been a terrible idea.

"So," Celine piped up mercilessly as she watched her partner slump back down with a weak sigh, "what have we learned today?"

"Sick people should rest and not exert themselves?" the gunman replied dryly.

"Got it! I'd have expected no less from Class VII's second highest scorer," the familiar said, and if Machias Regnitz ever stayed silent in response to _that_ particular taunt, something was very amiss indeed.

Emma stopped massaging her forehead long enough to muster up the most withering glare she could manage – meaning, of course, that it was somewhat disquieting at absolute best. "I never thought I'd see the day that you two would team up on me. This is poor sportsmanship, don't you think?"

"Desperate times, desperate measures," and both humans watched as the cat pawed her way to the door, turning back once. "I've got something I need to go check on. Be back in a little while, you two; have fun playing nursemaid, Machias."

Machias sniffed as Celine departed, his green eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Check on, she says. A little while, she says. Considering how fast she came charging into my office, the front she manages to put up is impressive…"

"… You don't have to stay, you know," the witch offered, her voice still raspy. "I'll be fine here. You still have a lot of work to do, don't you?"

The gunman shook his head immediately, discarding that idea without even a thought, and she shoved down the rather selfish stab of happiness that he was sticking around. "Some might say so. That said, it's only paperwork, and the wonderful and terrible thing about paperwork is that it's ridiculously portable; I wouldn't be able to escape it if I tried. Besides, you're far more important."

Flushed as she was already, Emma wasn't sure how it was even possible for her to feel warmer. "B-But – "

"But nothing, Emma," Machias told her with a quiet, reassuring smile, a smile that made him look and sound far younger. "One day away from the office won't kill me, and you need to rest. You should take your mind off traveling for now, too. I don't think you'd be very productive in your current state, anyway."

The same train of thought had run through her head earlier, much as she hated to admit it, and the tired sigh and nod of acknowledgment were received with a firm nod back.

"Speaking of your current state," Machias broached, worried again, "how's your fever?"

"I don't think it's broken yet, though that's a preliminary judgment at best."

"I thought as much. I'll be back," and Emma watched and listened as he left, the sounds of opening drawers and a running faucet filling her ears (and if she really paid attention, she swore she could hear him cursing under his breath as he searched, because when was the last time he needed a thermometer?)

When he returned, she wasn't at all surprised to see him holding the object in question along with a glass of water and some pills.

"For the fever, if you want them," Machias informed her, setting the glass down and handing the thermometer over; Emma took it gratefully, secretly glad that he hadn't decided to play the 'nursemaid' role to the hilt and take her temperature himself. She was sick, not incapacitated.

Her eyebrow raised in surprised when she took in the final reading. "Hmm. It's not as high I expected."

"Still too high for my taste," he muttered, reaching out to take it back as he watched Emma slowly take sips of water, each swallow a visible struggle. "I don't suppose you're very hungry right now, are you?"

"Not in the least," she answered – while she wasn't feeling particularly nauseous (a small blessing, to say the least) her appetite was currently non-existent at the moment and she wasn't about to tempt fate by introducing food of any kind into the equation.

"I thought not. Are you going to try and get some sleep? You still look exhausted."

She held back a fond snicker at his trademark bluntness, that particular trait having not been dimmed by time in the slightest. _"Thank you for that."_

Out loud, "Yes, I think I'll try to take a nap. Who knows; maybe the idea of food will seem more appealing by then."

"I certainly hope so. Sleep well, Emma. I'll come check on you in a while."

"Okay. Try not to work too hard?"

His lips twitched upwards a fraction. "Me? Never."

"Liar," Emma murmured at the unbelievably shameless falsehood, but she simply didn't have the energy to do more than that, and the last thing she saw before her eyes drifted shut and blessed slumber came was Machias sending one final glance at her, mouthing 'rest'.

* * *

In retrospect, he knew that he was worrying over nothing. After all, not only Emma was Class VII's former president and a witch of the Hexen Clan, she had managed to survive the insanity that had been the backbone of their lives since those first days at Thors. A mere bug was nothing in comparison.

Did that mean that his heart didn't clench a little when he had arrived at Emma's room after Celine's impromptu visit and saw her lying there, pale, feverish and visibly unwell? Absolutely not.

The next few hours passed by in a fog; while he was theoretically getting work done (as evidenced by one non-descript pile of paper getting smaller while the other one got larger), the distraction was such that all the signatures and statutes were beginning to swirl and coalesce into one concentrated mass of apathy – it would be a miracle if he managed to remember any of this by this evening, much less tomorrow.

"… Goddess, Machias. You're nearly as out of it as she is."

He blinked twice and looked down when he saw Celine swatting his pant cuff with her paw in exasperation, the familiar visibly annoyed with his lack of attention.

"I'm sorry. Were you saying something?"

"I was trying to tell you that I got back from checking on Emma," she explained, patience clearly still not her strong suit. "She's still asleep, but on the whole I think she kinda looks better. You want to go in and make sure?"

Well, that wasn't quite as straightforward as it sounded, was it?

He did, he absolutely did, but she had woken up so easily the last time he was in there and Machias knew there was a special place in Gehenna for those that woke up the sick and newborns, so maybe it was better if he stayed away for a bit longer and let her rest some more –

"Agh! W-What was that for?!"

" **Go** ," Celine ordered, retracting her claws and smirking at the indignant gunman without a trace of shame. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I didn't even draw blood, and it's not as if I had any other way to get your attention with you holding a one man inquisition in that head of yours. You need to stop thinking so much."

A laundry list of what _Celine_ needed to do was on the tip of his tongue, but miracle of miracles he managed to settle for an imperious glare even as he reached down to massage where she had dug in. "Duly noted."

"I try my best."

* * *

It wasn't easy to tell, but Machias thought that Celine's assessment was correct; even with the room's relative lack of light, Emma seemed a little bit better. Not exactly great, mind you, but the improvement was at least noticeable.

The moist washcloth that he had gingerly laid over her head (after a solid minute of debate outside; maybe the cat had a point) had been met with a quiet sigh but nothing more, and all in all it looked as though he could be in and out without any issue.

Now, if he could only bring himself to leave.

Machias held his breath, running his gaze over the resting witch one more time; though she was still feverish and flushed, her features were calm and at peace instead of drawn tight with pain. That was the most important thing.

 _"She'll be fine. Of course she'll be fine,"_ he thought, exhaling slowly, letting the tension seep out of his shoulders –

" – I hate seeing you like that."

For the second time in a few hours, Machias found himself jumping when Emma called out to him, a little taken aback by the frown on her face. "P-Pardon?"

"Worried," she clarified. "You still glare a lot when you're worried. It doesn't suit you anymore."

Judging by the way she was mumbling more than speaking, she was still closer to asleep than awake. "Sorry. Old habits die hard, it seems," he apologized, sitting down next to her, and he blinked when she turned away. "Emma?"

"I don't want you to leave, but I don't want you to get sick either," she said, brow knitting at her conundrum. "It's frustrating."

His eyes softened. "It's hardly an improvement on this end," he replied, letting a hand settle on her cloth covered forehead. "I don't like not being able to help you when you really need it."

"Oh, don't say that. You're doing fine," she assured him, giggling when he visibly relaxed.

"That's a relief. Do you feel any better?"

"Somewhat," she admitted, her sleepy gaze now focused on his face. "I still feel quite warm and tired, but my headache's gone now."

"Every journey begins with a single step," he said with a shrug, glancing over at the clock. "It's been a few hours. Do you think you might be able to handle some food? Soup, some toast…?"

"Maybe in a short while. I'm still not very hungry, but going without a meal for too long doesn't sound like a good idea. And for the record," she added hastily, "I think I'd prefer soup."

"Consider it done. Do you want to try to go back to sleep for now and I'll come wake you when it's ready?"

She paused in consideration, and when she stared back up at him there was a familiar tinge of red on her cheeks that hadn't been there before.

"Could… could you stay a bit longer, first?" she asked at last, sounding more than a little hopeful.

He laughed warmly at that, shaking his head all the while. "As if I could ever say no to that, though in this case I probably should. What kind of caretaker would I be if I didn't let my patient sleep?"

"One that's acting very considerate by taking the patient's emotional welfare into account. And no doubt one that's been working himself to the bone in the time I've been unconscious."

"I wouldn't go that far," Machias winced, remembering how he had been zoning in and out without fail no matter how much he tried to concentrate. "Still, I managed to be productive enough when Celine wasn't clawing me."

"Wait, why did she…?" she asked, confused.

"I was debating whether or not I should have come in here and risked waking you," he groused, looking annoyed. "I was apparently taking too long, so she took matters into her own... er, paws."

Emma propped herself up, faux-indignance written all over her face. "Well, now it sounds like I owe someone extra milk, Machias. You didn't want to come see me?"

"I-I did! I also wanted to let you _rest_ ," Machias defended himself, stressing the last word deliberately. "I'd woken you up once already, remember?"

Emma huffed and turned away, though she was fighting a losing battle with a mischievous smile. "Excuses, excuses. I can't believe you didn't want to come see me."

"Don't be ridiculous," the gunman muttered, reaching down to brush damp strands of hair away from her forehead. "I always want to see you, Emma," and he was startled when she stiffened and shifted in the other direction, wrapping the covers around herself.

"What - "

"… You're not playing fair," the brunette muttered into the pillow, her pout actually audible.

"How so?"

"Because you're making me want to kiss you right now, and I _can't_."

He laughed and reached out to grasp one of her hands, his thumb running across her soft skin. "I apologize."

"Oh? Forgive me if I doubt your sincerity."

"Believe what you want," Machias sighed, before he bent down and let his lips ghost over her crown; a single, fleeting touch. "That's the best I can do, for now. I hope that's enough?"

She glared at him (more adorable than intimidating in all honesty, though he wasn't about to volunteer that), her blush from earlier having returned with a vengeance. "You know it's not."

"Something to look forward to when you're better, then," he teased, before he caught sight of the nightstand and his expression rapidly sobered. "You didn't take any medication?"

Emma blinked twice and gingerly shook her head, seemingly mindful of the pitfalls of rapid movement. "Oh, no. You see, when I was younger my village relied mainly on natural remedies made from herbs and other plant life; I'm more used to those. Maybe if the pain was worse, I'd consider it, but…"

"I see. I never knew that, though it certainly makes sense. Can you tell me more? It sounds fascinating."

"There's actually not much to tell," the arts specialist answered with a yawn, settling herself within the blankets and smiling as his fingers traced her cheek. "When the weather was good, we'd go out with baskets and collect what we needed. The real hard work came in the preparation…"

"Preparation?" he asked, adjusting her covers.

"Mm. Some had to be sliced and dried, others had to be ground, and sometimes it was a… mix of…"

Machias listened carefully as her words began to run together, the brunette dangling on the precipice now. "Mix of…?"

"… ev'rythng… ", and he waited a few more moments, letting slumber take its hold on the exhausted woman.

"Emma?"

"…"

"I'll be back when the soup's ready," Machias finally whispered, nodding in satisfaction when he heard nothing more but a soft 'mm' in reply before easing himself off the bed and walking toward the door.

"… love you…"

He smiled.

"I love you. See you soon."

* * *

"So?" Celine called out when the former VP walked into the kitchen. "Was I right?"

"Indeed you were," Machias said, walking over to the sink to wash his hands – a token gesture at this point considering he was living with a contagious sick person, but every bit helped. "She was in less pain, anyway. Apparently her headache was gone."

"That's a relief," she said, watching while the gunman started to retrieve ingredients from the pantry. "Soup?"

"As per the patient's request," he answered, reaching out to grab a cutting board. "Oh, I almost forgot – would you like some milk?"

"And here I thought you'd never ask," came the familiar's glib reply, sauntering over when Machias set the saucer down in front of her. "Thought you might have held out after I stuck you earlier."

"Please. I'm hardly that petty, Celine. And though it pains me to admit this, your heart was in the right place."

"Always is," she said, sounding (to her credit) only a little smug. "You really should have just gone when I said so, though. Get some practice and all that."

The knife stopped above the carrots, seemingly forgotten. "Practice…?"

Celine looked up at him again, not bothering to hide her grin. "For later on. In sickness and in health, right?"

She snickered again, clearly expecting him to blush or stammer or do something equally as embarrassing, but he had no time for that – not when his mind was busy flashing to a very specific drawer of his bureau...

 _In sickness -_

... a drawer that that held within its confines a ring resting in a simple, tiny box.

 _\- and in health.  
_

"Well, I suppose that's another one you get credit for," Machias finally said, raising his knife to continue chopping as if nothing had happened, ignoring the feline's widening eyes all the while. "You're certainly not wrong, I'll grant you that."

* * *

AN: First off… for those of you keeping up with Sen IV spoilers HAHAHAHA BOY HOWDY ARE ALL US SHIPPERS IN FOR A WILD RIDE

DOES FALCOM KNOW WHAT BUTTONS TO PUSH FOR HYPE OR WHAT

Besides that, not a whole lot to say! What can I say, the sick fic's a classic :P Got more of these two coming at some point, so if you're tired of them… uh, sorry!

* * *

 **OMAKE**

"Come to think of it," Machias spoke up, stirring the soup with a watchful eye, "how bad was it this morning that it made you break into my office?"

"Pretty bad. She was a lot warmer, definitely more tired, her voice sounded even worse, and usually the only time I see her that flushed is right before I get told to sleep outside."

The ladle hit the tile with a loud _clank_ , much to Celine's satisfaction.

"… You had to throw that last part in there?"

"Naturally. Wouldn't have been any need if you two could learn to keep your hands to yourselves once in a while, mind."


End file.
